


Special Delivery

by Saentorine



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Birthday, Biting, Cuckolding, Darcy-centric, Definitely not meant to be serious, F/M, Food, Funny, Gen, Hogun discovers tasers, Multi, Objectification, Porn With Plot, Sloppy Seconds, Spanking, Tasers, Threesome - F/M/M, Volstagg discovers food delivery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 13:56:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1820773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saentorine/pseuds/Saentorine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Warriors Three show up on Midgard to celebrate Thor's birthday, Thor and Jane are out and Darcy is left to greet and entertain them. Hogun discovers tasers, Volstagg discovers food delivery, Fandral uses bad sexual innuendo (as usual), Ian has an unexpected fetish, and sexual escapades and general ridiculousness ensue. Includes mentions of Sif, Loki-as-Odin, and Lorelei's visit to Midgard.</p>
<p>Written for my friend who wanted the Fandral/Darcy/Ian threesome proposed in "Hey, Have You Guys Seen the News?" to actually happen, so I wrote it for her birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Special Delivery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tarmetiel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarmetiel/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Hey, So Have You Guys Seen the News?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1574567) by [Saentorine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saentorine/pseuds/Saentorine). 



> Nobody should think too hard about the relationship parameters and consent in this, lol. It's unrealistic as hell-- but everyone goes home happy.

Darcy really didn’t understand how birthdays were supposed to work on Asgard. When Jane had inquired how Thor knew when his birthday was-- or the measurement of years at all, for that matter, when Asgard didn't orbit a star like Earth did—and Thor had launched into a lengthy explanation involving vectors, galactic alignment, and the base roots of Yggdrasil, Jane nodded along, starry-eyed but keeping up while Darcy tuned out as soon as her eyes started to cross trying to make sense of the nonsensical. 

But Darcy could see just as clearly as anyone else when the date Jane put on the calendar approached, and when she woke up around noon that day she came into the living room to see the two of them smartly dressed-- Jane showered and in her one and only date dress and Thor in nice slacks and a fitted button-down Jane must have sprung to get him, looking for all the world like something on the cover of a romance novel-- and clearly on their way out.

"Oh, crap! Let me see if my sexy dress is clean," cried Darcy, starting back for her bedroom.

"You're not coming with us," Jane replied in a bit of a panic. "I'm taking Thor out for his birthday and we only have reservations for two."

Darcy turned back with a pout. "Oh come on! Thor wants me to come, don't you Thor?"

Thor smiled weakly, not wanting to be impolite.

"No, he doesn't," Jane answered for him. "This is just for us, Darcy, okay? Just chill out here for a couple hours. If you're bored, call Intern. We can all go out again together for drinks or something later.”

Darcy pouted, but they’d been over this, both with Richard and with Thor: sometimes Jane just wanted to be alone with her boyfriend as _a couple_. Darcy didn’t see what the big deal was; she wouldn’t mind if Jane wanted to come out with her and Ian. Lots of stuff was more fun with three. In fact, she and Ian had been spending a lot of time on OKCupid lately looking for just that.

As soon as they left, she decided to take Jane’s advice and dial Ian. First, however, she changed out of her pajamas and into a matching bra and panty set in order to tease him. Even though she could always _tell_ him whatever, she had discovered Ian had an eerily good talent for knowing if she was lying about what she was wearing on the phone. He didn’t have a lot of marketable skills as an intern but Darcy promised that she could vouch for that as a reference in the future.

He picked up after a few rings-- rare for him to take so long-- and as he answered cheerily: “Hey baby! How was your morning?” she could hear the background noise of some crowded place.

“Whatcha doing?” she asked casually. “Where are you?”

“I’m at work,” he replied, as if she was supposed to remember this. “Second day on the job at Tesco. I probably shouldn’t be on the phone right now, come to think of it.”

“You got a job?”

“Yes, applied last week. Say, you’re not wearing anything besides your bra and knickers right now, are you?”

“How do you _do_ that?” Darcy gasped.

“It’s my own personal superpower,” he laughed. “But I told you about this job, remember? You and Jane have your grant money to live off of, but—"

“Nah mostly Jane just hits Erik up for cash when we get short,” Darcy explained. “Jane’s grant money barely covers the rent, but you know, he’s published a couple books and people keep wanting to talk to him about that whole alignment thing, so . . . kaching.”

“Well I’ve still got to afford _my_ rent,” Ian explained patiently. “It’s only part-time, but they’ve got me scheduled every afternoon this week.”

" _Iannn_ ," she whined, in the needy voice that always had such an effect on him. Or maybe it was just that she actually used his real name? She kept telling him Intern was just a pet name like Baby or Shnookums but he never seemed to buy it. “You’re supposed to be on call for intern duties on a moment’s notice!”

"I’m in the middle of my shift and there’s no one to cover me. I’ll be off at 2:00 and I'll be over as soon as I can, alright?" he assured her.

“Fine,” she pouted.

He seemed to panic a little that this did not console her. “I’m sorry, baby! You know I would be over immediately if I could!”

Darcy smiled. “You are _so_ whipped.”

After hanging up she was too lazy to change into anything else, so she stayed in her underwear and flopped back on the couch, scrolling through the interminable offerings of Netflix until she found something she hadn't watched: an obscure documentary on the history of mustard. It was boring as hell but the narrator’s voice was oddly soothing and soon enough she was lulled back to sleep with her head thrown back against the arm of the couch.

She was startled awake, however, by a ruckus far too close to the apartment windows for comfort. Once she got her bearings she realized the sound was coming from the balcony itself. Turning around on the couch, she looked out the glass doors to see an intruder’s hand appear over the balcony wall.

"Aw hell the fuck no," she muttered, rummaging through the junk on the coffee table until she found her purse, and then in turn rummaging through her purse until she found her taser. She flung open the doors just as the dark-haired intruder cleared the railing and landed heavily on her balcony-- only to immediately crumple and fall backwards over the rail again as Darcy pulled the trigger and hit him with the stinging blast. She heard a dull thud as his body landed in the courtyard below just as two heads, blonde and red-haired, appeared above the railing and stared at her in utter shock.

"You just stupified Hogun!" said the blonde one with the mustache, whom she realized she recognized. Shit, Thor's friends. For his birthday! Of course!

"Oh, shit," she swore, starting to panic that she had hurt him, checking over the side of the ledge before pacing back and forth. Volstagg starting scaling back down the side of the building to retrieve his friend, but Fandral stayed put, watching her. Possibly because her fancy bra didn't do much to control the jiggling of her breasts as she frantically jerked back and forth. "Dammit. Um-- just bring him to the front doors, okay?" she called down to Volstagg, who was now on the ground and heaving Hogun over one shoulder. "I'll let you in and we can take the freaking elevator."

She hurried back inside followed leisurely by Fandral, who seemed unconcerned with Hogun and much more fascinated by Darcy’s backside—though any time she looked at him, he glanced purposely at some feature of the apartment and frowned at it as if trying to make out what it was. She left him there as she seized Jane’s raincoat from the coat rack for decency and headed down to the lobby to let the other two in.

Hogun and Volstagg seemed intrigued by the elevator, which was rickety, smelled of smoke, and took several seconds arriving at each floor-- but that didn’t stop Volstagg from pressing all the buttons and beaming in fascination each time the elevator stopped to let no one in. However, Hogun glared at Darcy in such a way that she couldn’t figure out if he were angry at her or if he just had a massive case of resting bitchface.

When they got back to the apartment, Volstagg and Fandral began to laugh about Hogun’s undignified fall but Hogun, as if by instinct, approached the coffee table where Darcy had abandoned her taser. Before she realized what he was doing, he had picked it up, aimed it at Volstagg, and pulled the trigger. Volstagg immediately stopped talking and started slowly teetering over until his center of gravity pulled him to the floor with an apartment-shaking thud. Hogun's lips spread into a rare grin of satisfaction. "It is not only the God of Thunder who controls the lightning now," he said with dramatic flair.

As he turned back to Darcy, taser still raised, she took a step backwards. "Uh, dude, chill out with that thing or I'm gonna have to get Mew-Mew." 

"Mew-Mew?" asked Fandral.

"Yeah, the hammer," she explained with a quick jerk of her head towards Mjolnir on the coat rack, before pointing a finger threateningly at Hogun. "I'll tenderize you like a hamburger."

But both Fandral and Hogun burst into hearty laughter. "My dear, surely you know you cannot lift the mighty hammer of Thor," Fandral quirked an eyebrow.

"Well what if I can, huh?" Darcy flushed. Thor flung that thing around easily enough, and Darcy had been incorporating some lifting into her gym visits lately. How hard could it be? 

Her pride now at stake-- well, what little pride could be had wearing a raincoat open to reveal a lacy matching panty set-- Darcy strode over to Mjolnir and gripped her around her leather-wrapped handle. She meant to lift her just enough to free the strap that hung her from the coathook, but even _that_ proved impossible; the hammer wouldn’t budge an inch, not even with two hands.

"Okay, yeah, I'm not throwing my back out for that,” she admitted in defeat.

“’Tis a shame, but many a great man has tried and failed,” offered Fandral. But then, with a wink and a slight swagger of his hips: “However, I deem thee worthy enough to handle _another_ glorious weapon of the gods.”

" _That_ 's the line you're going with?" replied Darcy in deadpan. "I'd stick with the hand-kissing thing, dude. Much smoother.”

By now Volstagg had come to and joined Hogun on the couch, so trying to be a good hostess Darcy flipped on the TV. It wasn’t long before Hogun stopped her on a channel featuring UFC fighting and he and Volstagg began watching with intent interest. She rummaged in one of the kitchen draw for a moment, pulling out a stash of delivery menus. Glancing at Volstagg's girth she handed them carefully to Hogun. "If you get hungry, you guys can order something,” she offered. Hogun took them without looking at her, already entranced by the screen, and set them beside him on the couch.

With that taken care of, she made to turn her attention entirely back to Fandral, but he had already beat her to it; he was on one knee on the ground and took her hand, pressing it to his lips and lingering there for a few seconds.

“Jesus! You look like you’re about to propose or something,” said Darcy.

“Well, I _am_ making a proposition, m’lady,” he winked.

“Do does your innuendo work on _all_ the ladies in Asgard?”

“Only those with good taste and clever wit.”

“Well at least _one_ of us has clever wit,” she replied, turning into her bedroom and dropping the raincoat, with the expectation he would follow.

Fandral’s eyes flashed at this burn, but he smiled. “A lady who parries; I am intrigued.”

As soon as they were in the bedroom, Fandral took Darcy into his arms and dipped her while kicking the door shut with his boot. Darcy got the impression this was a move he had rehearsed more than once. “Okaaayyyy Romeo,” she said, patting him delicately on one of his firm biceps.

Then he pushed her gently back up against the wall, kissing her deeply, the hilt of his sword pressing into her thigh. She groaned and pushed him back. “Dude, the sword? You’re hurting me with that thing.”

“Then I’ll have to get you nicely loosened up first,” he smirked, drawing closer so she could feel the press of the _other_ weapon on his person. However, he dutifully undid his belt and laid it with his sword on the floor, then began moving on to the laces on his trousers-- until Darcy stopped him, insisting on helping herself. As soon as she had removed his shirt as well, Fandral’s hands slid behind her to assist in removing her bra.

He struggled with the clasp. “Odin’s beard, what is this death trap?” he exclaimed.

“Uh-oh, guess you’re not worthy,” Darcy teased.

He leaned down so close to her face she could feel his breath. “You know, we have a custom in Asgard of _gagging_ those whose mouths tend to get them into trouble,” he cooed, raising his eyebrows in mocking threat, “but it would be such a shame not to have this at my disposal.” He ran a finger gently over her soft lips, parting them so Darcy could take it inside. She sucked on it, watching him defiantly until he smiled. “See? That’s much better than running your smart mouth, isn’t it?”

Then she sank her teeth in gently and watched as his satisfaction transformed into playful outrage. His eyes sparked and his mouth grew wide, then grinned, as he seized her off-balance and sat on her bed, tossing her belly-down over his lap. Darcy squirmed instinctively but Fandral held the small of her back with one hand as the other rained several sharp smacks down on her round, pale cheeks exposed by the skimpy underwear. They did not stay pale for long, however, but blossomed into a warm, bright pink as Darcy shrieked. Fandral shushed her, scolding her again for her noise: “How am I to boast of this conquest if they’ve already heard it from you?” 

When she quieted, he wrenched her panties down but instead of spanking her, rubbed her tender ass in gentle circles until a finger found her swollen opening-- and just how wet and ready it was. He slid it inside and Darcy arched her back over his lap. When she repositioned herself back down, she could feel his hardness pressing into her belly.

“So . . . are you gonna show me your _technique_ with this longsword, or what?” she taunted, squirming purposely over his lap to tease him. Fandral’s eyes sparkled and he maneuvered her so she was bent over the bed rather than his lap, and, keeping his hands firmly at the small of her waist, slid in from behind. Darcy moaned as he filled her and the two began to rock in unison, each thrust prompting a slight gasp or moan from Darcy. “Constitutionally incapable of keeping quiet, are we?” Fandral teased her.

However, after only a minute there came another sound-- the sound of the doorknob being rattled-- and they both looked up in shock to see Ian appear in the doorway, his eyes darting between the two of them in equal surprise. Darcy could see the original question on his lips—what are the two Viking gods doing in the apartment?—fade away into a much more pressing one.

"Oh shit, Ian, I forgot you were coming over,” said Darcy.

Ian stammered for a moment, blushing furiously but unable to tear his eyes away. “I mean it—it’s fine,” he tried to excuse, eternally accommodating. "You said you wanted to keep things open and everything, and . . . "

"He is your lover?" Fandral asked Darcy, appraising him curiously. He did not pull out from inside her.

"Yeah, we're totally bound together by shared trauma," she explained. "But we're not exclusive."

“We’re in a relationship on Facebook,” Ian explained to Fandral, as if he had any idea what that meant. “Not even ‘it’s complicated’!”

“Yeah, but we’re also trawling OKCupid for threesome partners. So how about this one?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes. 

"I mean . . . if you . . . you can just keep on it, if you like," Ian stuttered, apparently trying to sound put off but unable to be anything other than perfectly polite. However, a glance down at the swelling against his pants revealed this wasn’t entirely reluctant.

"Oh my god, you're _into_ it!" Darcy crowed. Ian's flush went several shades darker.

"Well that works out perfectly, then," chuckled Fandral, beginning to smile. His tone danced somewhere between malicious and playful as he teased, slowly beginning to thrust into Darcy again: "Tell me Ian, how much you like seeing your girlfriend being fucked by an immortal _god_ , with centuries of experience over your own?”

“That just kinda makes you sound old,” Darcy whispered back over her shoulder, trying to help him out, but he landed a sharp smack to the side of her ass to implore her to stop speaking. She squealed.

"He should not have kept his lady waiting," said Fandral down to Darcy, although the note of disdain was clearly meant for Ian. "An insatiable creature such as Darcy needs a man who is attentive, a man who can cater to her every whim, pleasure her in any way for any length of time. You are not capable of such things, are you, Ian?”

Ian shook his head almost robotically as he watched with fascination, eyes bright and color high in his cheeks. His lips were parted and Darcy thought she could see his tongue starting to emerge, and although he did not touch himself his cock was clearly painfully strained against his jeans.

Then, Fandral surprised Darcy by pulling out and pulling her upright. He stood behind her and held her up before him, putting her on display for Ian. “ _This_ magnificent creation,” he said with emphasis, running a hand across her body starting by clutching one full breast and dragging his fingers purposely down her torso until they dipped into the crevice between her legs, “requires the fucking of an actual god.”

Darcy blushed at the compliment-- as well as the thrill of his fingers brushing against her that made her rock into him a little despite herself-- and watched Ian with bright eyes. Ian had never made her feel anything but worshipped in the way he would blindly follow her every command, grinning all the while, nor the way he clung possessively with his long arms after they made love, but he was shier about _saying_ as much. Fandral’s own ego was the size of a small planet, but he clearly spared no flattering excess on his lovers, either. 

Of course, Fandral’s positioning also put _himself_ on display, allowing Ian to take in what he was competing with: broad chest smattered with fine blonde down, strong abs, thick arms, and, of course, his “longsword,” fully erect. Ian wasn’t in bad shape, but he was very much a human of the modern 21st century; he could get open a jar of pickles in a pinch but he wasn’t going to be lugging around a battle axe any time soon.

Fandral guided Darcy’s hand down to his cock. She obediently wrapped her hand around its warm girth, and since it was still a little slippery from her own wetness she began to pump gently. Fandral turned her towards him so her breasts pressed against his muscular chest and wrapped an arm possessively around her waist to keep her close as she continued to work on his cock.

"Tell me Ian, have you ever made her scream?" asked Fandral. "And I mean _scream_ , sir; not just whimper and moan.”

"I-- I don't remem--"

"Well, then the answer is _no_. You would remember if you had," he chided, cupping Darcy’s jaw in one hand. “So watch how a real man does it.”

He cupped his hands under her ass and lifted her-- Darcy was impressed at how little he struggled, as if she weighed close to nothing-- and brought her down upon his erect cock. Darcy reached a hand down to help guide him into her, and gasped when he slid in as neatly and tightly as two fitting puzzle pieces. He rested her to sit on the bed but remained standing himself, and instinctively Darcy wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling them tighter together so Fandral could thrust more deeply. With his hands free to touch her he started with a deep kiss, then moved on to nuzzling her neck, then grazing his lips down to her ample breasts to suck them gently before finishing with a gentle bite. With one hand he reached down to assist his cock in pleasuring her below.

Darcy meanwhile had her hands in his hair, on his shoulders and upper arms, his broad chest . . . anywhere she felt best to grip him to keep from falling backwards as his touches began to make her feel weak. Knowing Ian was watching, she did not hold back from her audible reactions and even put on a bit of a show, biting her lip and tossing her head back and occasionally casting a glance his way to acknowledge she knew he was there. He continued to stare, transfixed, occasionally moaning or giving a slight gasp as he reacted to the sight of her enjoyment. 

After several centuries Fandral _did_ know what he was doing, a perfect recipe of touch, angle, and timing, and before long between the slow rocking of their bodies and his various touches of hand, lips, tongue, and teeth she began to feel the creeping tingles of approaching orgasm radiating up from her center. However, he teased her by pulling back or changing his touch so that her pleasure only heightened, never released. Darcy tried to counter, tried to keep back on track by reaching towards where she needed to be touched, but Fandral seized her wrist and held it, ensuring only he would be in control of her orgasm. 

“Dammit, Fandral,” she snarled at him, glaring playfully.

He merely winked and kissed her, his tongue parrying with hers much physical than their banter earlier, as he continued to stroke the outer folds of her sex, igniting the warmth that the thick presence of his cock intensified.

Finally: "Fuck!" Darcy shrieked as the orgasm positively exploded inside her, the warmth bursting over her entire body and down through her extremities so she was consumed with pleasure. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

The final "fuck!" was more of a burst of air with her lips in the form of the syllables than a word as she breathlessly deflated from the intensity of the orgasm. She started to lie back against the bed and in immediate succession she felt Fandral’s body and hands tense in his own orgasm, plus several particularly zealous thrusts as he spilled his seed inside her.

The two of them were now sluggish, but Fandral had barely pulled out before Darcy was tackled by a second set of hands rolling her onto her belly and pinning her to the bed. She knew they were Ian's, but the rough, confident way they handled her was barely recognizable. He seized her by the fleshy part of her hips for leverage as he took her from behind, sliding in like a greased rail thanks to the previous fucking that had left her stretched and incredibly wet. 

"Ian!” cried Darcy, laughing in surprise, then gasping in pleasure as he folded her at a sharper angle over the bed so his cock teased against the tender spot at the fore of her pelvis. The laughter, which he must have taken as derision, drove him onward like a raging bull, panting and digging his fingers hard into her flesh.

“You liked when he fucked you?” he demanded, his voice low and gravelly.

“Did it look like it?” Darcy laughed again, and Ian forced himself harder into her. Her breasts heaved forward as she clenched her hands into the sheets to keep from being smashed into the mattress. It must have been quite a sight for Fandral, who watched the two of them with interest.

"Enjoying my leavings?" he asked Ian casually, standing proudly before the two of them with his cock wavering at half-mast.

"Dude, are you already hard again?" Darcy asked, shocked.

"As insatiable as you are, my dear," he replied, taking her chin in hand. However, it was then Darcy who surprised him by taking his cock in her mouth.

“No biting, now,” he warned, patting her gently on the jaw before sliding his hand back into her hair, which he clutched to help steady her pace since Ian’s thrusts were so frenetic. But just to tease him Darcy grazed him gently with her upper teeth, and felt him shudder with gratification.

He looked down over the entire sight before him-- Darcy going down on him, Ian taking her from behind—and began to laugh himself, calling Ian's attention to scold him: "You must not be fucking her properly if she still craves _my_ cock."

Darcy felt Ian slow his pace so he could thrust himself completely to the hilt, causing her entire body to shudder. Of course, each drive forward only pushed her further into Fandral's cock, to which he responded with appreciative moans.

Darcy came first, gasping and sighing but to spent to make much noise this time. Her dark lips went slack around Fandral’s cock, but the sight of her cheeks flushing red under the shadows of her lashes as her eyes narrowed-- a sight which he had been unable to get such a good view of the first time-- pushed him over the edge. The little noise Darcy was making was silenced she became preoccupied with what ended up in her mouth.

Finally, with a choked cry Ian came, grabbing Darcy’s hipbones to hold himself completely inside as he filled her, as if hoping that if far enough back his own seed would wash away Fandral’s. The three of them crumpled into a pile against the bed, Darcy lying back against Fandral's chest with Ian's head in her lap. "You guys are fun," she announced when her breathing finally evened out.

"Wait, is that chicken?" Ian asked, squinting his eyes.

"I believe the term is cuckold," supplied Fandral.

"No, I mean that smell," he clarified. "Anyone else?"

They all took a whiff, and sure enough: "The food!" Darcy realized. "Whatever Hogun ordered must be here."

After covering themselves in the necessary fashion (Darcy found her sexy dress in the hamper, sniffed it, and deemed it worthy) they emerged into the living room and were assaulted by the sight and smells of a veritable takeout fast. Every flat bit of space-- kitchen counters, stovetop, coffee table, couch cushions, even the top of the TV-- was covered in boxes and bags displaying an international smorgasbord of delivered food: tandoori chicken, chicken biryani, beef vindaloo, pasta alfredo and pasta carbonara, baby back ribs, a sampler platter of makizushi, fish and chips, lamb kabobs, baba ghanoush and pita chips, a pizza with sausage and a pizza with ham and capers, pad thai, fried tofu, sweet and sour pork, and a family-sized container of egg drop soup.

In front of the door stood a line of delivery boys, their uniforms corresponding with the various boxes and bags, all looking confused and displeased. Across from them stood Volstagg with Darcy's cell phone and the stack of order-in menus clenched in one fist and a small leather purse in the other. He looked panicked and his eyes immediately fell upon them in relief.

"Thank goodness you're here!" he cried. "These couriers would not accept my gold. Do you not trade in gold on Midgard?"

"Christ, Volstagg, you ordered something from everywhere?" Darcy cried, pulling out her wallet.

"Good lady, I ordered numerous things from everywhere. 'Tis a feast fit for the son of Odin."

Approximately £300 later, the delivery boys were paid and on their way. "Give me that," said Darcy, snatching the gold from Volstagg. "I'm sure I can exchange it _somewhere_."

It was only a minute later there was the sound of a key in the lock and Jane and Thor entered, back from their birthday lunch. Hardly expecting a crowd, they both looked shocked at the number of people in the small apartment, but as soon as Thor recognized his companions his face broke into a huge grin as he embraced each of them in turn, lifting Fandral and Hogun off the ground with a hearty shout; only Volstagg reversed the order, the heft of his belly giving him the leverage to lift Thor a few inches from the carpet.

Then he observed the spread of food. "You have prepared a feast!"

"Oh my god, we just ate," Jane moaned, putting a hand to her stuffed belly. 

However, Thor grabbed a leg of chicken and tore into it as if he hadn't eaten in hours. "Was Lady Sif unable to accompany you?" he asked the Warriors Three as he chewed, curious about her noted absence.

"Should we be worried about this Lady Sif?" Darcy muttered quietly to Jane, gripping her arm in defensive solidarity.

"No!" Jane scolded her. "I met Sif, she's perfectly nice."

"Okayyy," Darcy agreed reluctantly. "But you just let me know; if she tries anything, I'll rip out her weave." Jane stared at her confused horror. "What? Didn't you read Selvig's myth book? Girlfriend's a got magic weave."

"Sif thought it best if one of us stayed in Asgard," Fandral explained, scooping some biryani into a dish and sitting on the couch. "As you can see, we were reprieved of our charges of treason-- but we've been a bit hesitant to push our limits too much. And Odin has been keeping Sif especially busy lately."

"And truth be told, we're all a bit concerned leaving Odin to his own devices for long. I do not wish to alarm you," Volstagg said with hesitation, "but your father has not seemed himself of late."

"Does his Sleep approach?" Thor asked.

"No, it's different from that. He's not just tired. He keeps to himself much more than he ever did, seems almost paranoid. You should see how the palace has been repaired; it's a veritable fortress."

"Probably getting senile," Darcy chimed in. "I mean, what, he's like 5,000 years old, isn't he?"

"He seems disinterested-- I dare say, even incompetent in the general maintenance of Asgard these days," Fandral added. "He hardly speaks to his war council, yet he commands the strangest foreign missions of his warriors. Sif was on Midgard earlier this year to capture and return Lorelei to Asgard, although no one can figure out how she even escaped in the first place after 600 years. Nor what would inspire her to start in Midgard, of all places. No offense, my dears," he nodded towards Jane and Darcy, "but when did this little realm become so popular with conquerors?”

"I am sure the death of my mother has been hard on him," Thor speculated, his face betraying his own grief. 

"Is it not natural for a man to grieve his wife of several thousand years?"

"Of course. And I do wonder if your absence troubles him as well," Volstagg added. "He is a man without a family."

"And you were meant to have the throne by now," Hogun pointed out. "If you will not have it, no one is certain who will rule when he is gone-- nor even during his next Sleep."

Thor’s expression darkened, clearly conflicted by their news. He had wanted a clean break from the duties of his past to focus on protecting Midgard, but the knowledge that Asgard did not fare so well without him could not be ignored. As much as he wanted nothing of his father’s throne, the legacy of hypocrisy and oppression that had once driven Thor to battle so wantonly in his youth and his brother to numerous attempts at genocide in the name of some unfounded sense of superiority . . . perhaps leaving him to it in his grief and old age was not the most responsible choice, either.

Noting his distraught expression and now-empty plate, Jane quietly handed him a bowl with some fried tofu and a few kabobs. Glad to have something else to occupy his mouth Thor gratefully forked a square of tofu. However, he frowned as he chewed it quizzically. "This is very strange meat." 

"It's not meat," Jane explained. "It's a kind of bean, sort of pretending to be meat."

"It is not so skilled in its deception. Loki could have taught it a thing or two."

Their revelry carried on for a few more hours as they made neat work of about half the food—Volstagg had ordered food estimated for 6 Asgardians and only he, Fandral, Hogun, and Thor were able to consume such portions-- but as the sun began to set, the Warriors Three said it was best they returned to the wormhole while it was still light enough to see, and Heimdall could return them safely to Asgard. Rather than climbing over the balcony, the Thor, Jane, Darcy, and Ian saw them out of the lobby, Thor bidding his friends to promise another visit and to keep a close eye on his father on his behalf, promising that if they truly needed him he would return.

After traipsing back upstairs, Darcy remembered Jane’s promise from earlier: “So . . . we still on for some drinks?” 

Jane and Thor looked at each other apprehensively; it was clear they had some other plans they had only put off because of the company.

"Oh sure, I get it; Ian and I feel you on the call of the Asgardian d,” Darcy teased. “So you guys go have a good time and just meet us at the bar in . . . well, sometime before it closes.”

Jane blushed, glanced at Ian, and then looked at Thor to see if he could make any sense of Darcy’s comment-- but he just grinned back at her proudly, having heard nothing but the compliment to his own penis. However, to question what she was talking about apparently wasn't worth the wait, so just as she commanded the two of them disappeared into their bedroom leaving Darcy and Ian alone with trays upon trays of cooling leftovers. Ian began to pack up the food as Darcy started assembling re-assembling the contents of her purse. 

After a moment she realized: "Hey, I think Hogun took my taser."


End file.
